


Loving Her

by substandard_motel



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abandonment, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Catra, i wrote this a year ago and totally forgot, so enjoy!, sort of? It’s referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/substandard_motel/pseuds/substandard_motel
Summary: Loving her was golden hair splayed across a single, slouched pillow, feather-light lashes hanging like curtains over eyes the color of wonder; childlike and tucked carefully beneath fierce determination; a terrifying drive to lead, to serve, to please.Or, Catra reflects on her relationship with Adora.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Loving Her

**Author's Note:**

> My catradora playlist that I listened to while writing this can be found at: https://open.spotify.com/user/ncgoppel/playlist/0TiHVa8ipy3z2RrG9gf3o0?si=wWJb9Ic5QrKEsy-z1usfqw 
> 
> I’m very proud of it please listen to it and validate me.

Loving her was golden hair splayed across a single, slouched pillow; feather-light lashes hanging like curtains over eyes the color of wonder; childlike and tucked carefully beneath fierce determination; a terrifying drive to lead, to serve, to please.

Loving her was living in the shadow of her light, surviving off the dredges of her yearning for validation, for recognition; gulping up the spare like water in a desert—water that tasted of dust and scorn—that burned its way down her throat, staking it’s claim in her body and soul.

Loving her was the aching cold of her absence, fumbling for warmth in the pristine sheets of her bed, curled in a ball like a lost child; an evil queen waiting to be rescued by the perfect princess.

Loving her was lungs filled with flowers, traitorous thorns hidden beneath soft, blooming petals that caressed her rib cage even as their dry stems intertwined themselves with her skeleton.

Loving her was a heart full of poison, mechanically pumping blackened blood through a spiderweb of veins that twisted around her bones like thick, wild vines; squeezing ever-tighter until she thought she might shatter.

Loving her was sleepless nights haunted by her smile, her lips, her hands; mirrored in her nightmares by a harsh glare and the feeling of being thrust away, used and now useless; abandoned.

Loving her was living in the world she created, basking in the light of her smile and curling up between the determined crease in her forehead; it was feeling everything she knew slip away, and being left to rot in the suffocating darkness.

Loving her was being addicted to her intoxicating scent, her approval, her saving touch that made all the _pain_ go away, if only for a moment.

Loving her was having a purpose, an ever constant and ingrained need to deserve her, to prove herself, to protect her.

Hating her was feeling her heart be ripped from her chest and bludgeoned in front of her by a girl she didn’t recognize; a girl that paraded around preaching about corruption and freedom, of all things. A girl that held aloft a gleaming sword, and she knew without a doubt that if her own loneliness didn’t kill her, then that weapon would.

Hating her was having a _new_ purpose; torn sheets and scratched faces, betrayal that had festered into a horrible, ugly cruelty that hungered for blood. It was a desire to claw, to break, to _touch_ one more time; gentle, at first, the way she used to, but then harsh, bone-splintering brutality. She wanted to caress her hair and crush her skull between her palms, wanted to kiss lips painted in blood.

Hating her, she realized, was so very much like loving her, and that was the cruelest betrayal of all.


End file.
